


Fortune

by Acaeria



Series: Transcendence AU [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Transcendence, Death, Demons, Gen, i wrote this in a day are you proud of me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 13:45:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8287817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acaeria/pseuds/Acaeria
Summary: She’d been stolen- tr̴͘i̷ck̶ed̸̡- broken, torn apart and forced back together with parts that weren’t Her own. Who was She? What was She?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from the TAU blog, written in a day, and not proofread, here's this... thing. I'm never really happy with the things I write for this AU, but whatever. The demons names and the basic idea for their powers came from @ebooks_goetia on twitter.
> 
> I would also like to apologise for the sheer amount of zalgo in this fic. Translations, so to speak, are listed in the end notes.
> 
> Prompt: http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/151580762995/fic-prompt-someone-tries-to-attach-a-demon

Isolation was like a mother to her, arms wrapped around her neck comfortingly, whispering ideas into her ears. Over the years, her obsession, sparked in high school, had only continued to grow, pushing everyone away from her, and leaving her all alone. But she didn’t mind, because in her quiet house in the countryside, away from the bustling city of her youth, her ideas could be realised.

Now she sat, flicking through a large tome, a Grade-A classified book that, by all accounts, she should never have been able to get her hands on. Her head lolled with sleep, or rather the lack of it, finally catching up to her. She reached up and rubbed her eyes, blurred from the hours of looking through names and diagrams. If she was being perfectly honest, she didn’t know what half of these words meant.

She turned the page again and her eyes landed on some words, ones that she actually understood. She hummed thoughtfully, placing a bookmark into the page and leaning back, looking up at the ceiling of her study. A memory bloomed in her mind, and she laughed quietly, glancing back over at the book.

This was the one.

* * *

Mary-Ann Rothwell  _ hated _ her parents.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Sometimes she loved them, because they were funny and kind and they loved her, too. It was just times like this when she hated them, when they dragged her to their pro-nat rallies and forced her to hold signs and yell alongside them. She didn’t used to mind it- heck, she used to  _ agree _ with them- but since getting more involved with different online communities, she began to find herself disillusioned with the cause. Because  _ heck _ , what did the preternatural ever do to you?

But she couldn’t exactly stay home while her parents went to the rallies, because they’d get suspicious. And she didn’t really feel like arguing with them, at all, ever. So she sucked it up and went along and tried not to frown too much.

Suddenly, there was a noise louder than anything she’d ever heard, and the ground shook so hard that she found herself falling toward it. As she lay there on the concrete, dazed and confused, she heard the sounds of screaming, and smelt what could only be burning. Someone yelled, “Bomb!”

_ Bomb _ ? She ran the word over in her mind. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time someone had attacked a pro-nat rally; it was just the first time she’d been at the attacked rally. 

Someone was pulling on her arm. “Mary-Ann!” a familiar voice shrieked. “Get up! Mary!” She blinked and lifted her heavy head to see her mother’s frantic expression. Another explosion rocked the ground, and her mother stumbled away with the force. As Mary dazedly watched, her father pulled on his wife’s arm and dragged them away. Groaning, she turned her head the opposite way to see a wall of fire bearing down on her.

“Oh,” she mumbled. 

Suddenly, she felt someone grab her, and pull her away from the blistering heat. All around her, people were screaming and running, and someone was carrying her away from that, baby-style. She looked up at her saviour’s face, but her vision was too blurry for her to make anything out.

The world fell away from her, a final scream ringing in her ears.

* * *

Aerthia, fortune-teller demon, found herself summoned. The summoner wasn’t particularly unusual, a woman with messy dark hair, bags under her eyes, and no fashion sense. No, what was unusual was the glint in her eye, and it set the demon on edge. If she wasn’t obligated to hear the summoner out, she would have left immediately.

“W͞h̵̢͟o͝ ͞dare͞s͘ i̧͟n͘vo͏ḱ͢e̡ ̷̢t̶̵h͢͡e̶̢̡ ҉͠n̵̢a͟͜me͘͢ o͞f͟ ̡A̷͞éŕt̸h͠i̧̕a͡,̷͠ ̷̷fơ͝rtų͘n̴e̷-̵te͟l̸̀͞l̵͢͡e̶̶͡r͏?̡͢” she snarled, writhing upwards to smoke against the ceiling. The summoner didn’t seem unnerved, a quirk that could almost be mistaken for a smile playing at her lip. But there was no way a mortal would smile in the presence of a demon, especially not a demon such as she. 

“Aerthia the prophet,” she intoned. “Aerthia the possessor. Aerthia the mystic. Aerthia the demon.”   
Aerthia scowled. “I͠ ̷d̴idn̶'t̴ c͢om̡e ̴h͢er͠e ̕t͡o ̵h̀ear ̕my òw̨n na̵me, ch̢íl͡d͠.͘ ̕W҉h͞a̴t d̶o ͝y̕o̸u͘ ́w̨a͘n̡t?̸”

“You,” the summoner said. Aethia's ethereal form billowed in confusion. 

“M͜e?̶” Her eyes narrowed as her form stabilised. “W͏h̀at d̕o͝ yo̸ù ͘m͠ea̴n b̢y tha͜t?͟” The summoner laughed. She clicked her fingers and a light at the back of the basement flickered to life, revealing a small girl, passed out on the floor. 

“She’s all yours,” she said with a grin, “If you’ll do me the honour of spending some time with me.”   
Aerthia frowned. “T̸hat̶'s͢ it? ̸Yo͢u w̶ant̶ ̀t̀o.̸.. ̷ha̵ņg̴ ͠ou͟t͢?”

The summoner nodded. “Yes. That’s what I want.”

Aerthia shrugged. She’d had worse summons, she supposed. “T͜͠h̨͟͟en͘ ͟i̕t͜'̀s̶ ̧͠͠a̕̕҉ ҉ḑ̶̵e̶a͏̡l.̵̢.”

She held out her hand and the summoner took it, shaking it. A burst of purple smoke enveloped their hands, sealing the deal, and then the summoner pulled her from the circle. “She’s all yours,” she said, gesturing to the girl. Aerthia grinned, showing sharp teeth. 

“I͝ dóņ'͡t ḿin̨d ̵i̴f I ͞d̸o,̵” she hummed, and stepped forward. She floated above the unconscious girl, who was just beginning to stir, muttering something in her sleep and shifting on the hard floor. Aerthia opened her maw, waiting for the girl to open her eyes, so that she could be the last thing her prey would ever see; and then, before she knew what was happening, she was caught in some sort of net, claws of magic digging into her. She screamed wildly, thrashing, and attempted to leave, but something prevented her from doing so.

 

“Ḣ̷̨ͥ͑̚͏̸̩̱͙̪͙͔͍͕̹ô̤͎̖̟̟͓̰̣̘͖̆̓ͭ̾̿̄͑̈́ͨͥͤͥ̍̓̌̀̕͝ͅwͤ̇̏ͦ̀ͫ̎͆̔ͤ̚͏͎̤͚͔͇̜̤̩͈͜͟ ̶̛͙͈͈̠̺̬͇̳̹̰̹̟̠ͧ͒̓̅̈́͐̌ͭ̋̉̾̂͊̉̃͡c̶̢̙̣͈̬̠͉̱̃̾̆ͨ̏o̴̡̢͇͎͇̺̠̳ͬ̋̃̽͑͢ͅu̸̶͚̝̤̗̫̺̥̺̫͍̘ͣ̑̐̿ͯl̡̠͖͈͈͓͇͔̘͖͎̂̐͌̃d̶̥̼̝̘̭̝̲͉ͮͫ̂̍ͣ̽̈́̈́̇͟͡ ̄͒̔͂͐̓̎͋̔̎̇͏̨̦̠̪̯̗̜y̷̽̀ͧ́͊̓̄̐̍ͦ̔ͫ́͑̔͂͒ͩ̀͏̛͚͍͚̬oͮ̿ͤͪ͆̈ͦ̆͂̍̓̀̚̚҉̜̩͖̪͙̮͇̦͔̦ǔ̧̈͛ͫ͑̐ͤ͂ͬ̂ͩ̆҉̸͖̞͍̹̫̗̤̱?̶̶̤͖̱̺̫̜̞̠̲̳͖̈́ͪ͆̂̎̆ͧ͊̏͐̊͛ͦ͟!ͧ̔̐ͫͮͮ̎̿̄҉̶͈̲̮͕̺̖͍̩͚͙͈̮͠” she wailed. “W̶̢͎̠͕̟̼͕͕̻̤̳͔̱̮͕̠͎͖͑̆̀̓̊͘͡ȟ̸̸̯̻͖̹̼̦̻̤̬͌̌ͫ̉͋̃ͬͤ̐ͯ̄̆̚a̭̤̙͎͎̻̟͙͖̘̪̬̺̍̈́ͬͥ̊̐̆̀͑ͦ͗ͦ͂́̚͘t̵̗̟̯̣̠̭̰̺̱̥̟̦̮͓͂̓͆ͮ̌̋ͫ́͘͠͡ ́ͮ̊ͪ̐̈́ͫ̌ͬ̓͒̐̾̀͐͘͜͏̞͙̙͎̪̪͓̱̫̮̭͉͓̹̣̤͕d̢̜̼͙͍̜̩͔̣͍̼̭̻̘̲͓͉͎ͫ̊̽̊͌̅͑̇͑̒̐̔̉̍̈ͦͮ̊́͘̕͟i̴̴̊̋ͭ͛ͬ͗͟҉҉̪̼̪̮͍̝͚͚̘d̎̆̓̍͗̍ͨͤ͂͊͋̋̀͑҉̴̹̖̻͖̜̲͎̭̣͕̀ ̷̢̛̝̟͖̣͎͎̩̬̓ͨͪ̕ͅy̡̘͚͖͉͇̥͓̹̣̞̬̞̦̘̒ͧ̌̐ͭ̅ͮͮ̾̔̊̕o̠͇̝͈͇͇ͣ́ͦ̽̒̄͌͛̏̂̀̄̆̎ͧ̃ͫ̒͘̕͜ư̶̟̗͇̪̒̅͐̎̕͡͞ ͛ͭ͆͆̍ͯ͑̐ͪ҉͏̖̳͓͈̞͔̥̪̫̩̰̼̤͎̞̠͉͔͔͟ḑ̮̫̰̖̜̘̼͎̟̯̪͇̳͎̿̏͑̍̂ͫ͋͘͘͠ơ̵̡̞̠̭̹͓͖̫̝͙͙̣̜̪̳̰̟̮͕͐́̊́͌ͧ̽̅̃͗̊̋́͋̕̕ ̧̦̗̦̰̜͇̲̳̙̺̜̈́ͦ͂̉͠t̨ͯͮ̍͒͊͛͑͆͋ͥ̆̒͑̂ͨ̋ͦ̀͘͡͏̤̝̠̫͉̼̥͕̳͈͕̺o̵̵̧̜͕̤͔̦̲͈̯̝͔͂̾̅͐̂̚͢͝ ̶̡̡̛̼̞̝̪̳͖͓̞̫̾̔̊̑̂͌͂ͮ̏̔̆̀̔̚͞m̢̊̓̎̈̀͞҉̴̜͓̻̣̳̞͔̯̱̥͙̲͕̟̬e̶̼̩̞̦̖ͯ́̃ͫ̾̿͆͗͗͢͝͝?̵̧͙̥̭͙̯̫͈̭͚̖͍̹͎͇͆̀̾̔͆͛̌̈́̋͊̋͡ͅ!̩̱̹͎̲̼͍͈̮͚̰͕̲̦̠ͯ̉͂̆͒ͨͯͫ͐͑̑̆́ͅͅ”

 

The summoner grinned, and held up something she recognised. An amulet of Abca, a fellow demon who created magical artifacts that could do anything and everything and were impossible to beat. And that was when Aerthia remembered what Abca had told her last time they’d met, about a summoner who was going to try something so insane, and to stay safe. He’d been shaking, all thirty eyes unable to stay still, shifting back and forth.

Never had she considered that this woman may have been the summoner that had spooked even Abca. She screamed in outrage.

“Now,” the woman said in a sing-song voice, “I think you ought to sleep, don’t you?”

* * *

A̶̵͜͜͠g҉̸͏͏ó͜n͘͢҉̡́ỳ̸̧̕, pure agony, wracked through Her blood, Her bones, Her very  _ soul.  _ This was wrong, this was so very wrong, and Her mind turned inside-out in horror of it. She’d been stolen- tr̴͘i̷ck̶ed̸̡-  _ broken _ , torn apart and forced back together with parts that weren’t Her own. Who was She? What was She?

She didn’t know. All that She knew was agony and pain and a  _ wrongwrong  _ W̸̨͏r̸o̡n̶g͟͝n͝e͞s̢s̀ that permeated everything She was. 

Her eyes snapped open to dark, dangerous eyes, and a sweetly smiling mouth. “Sweetheart,” said the woman, her voice filled with wonder and love. She held out her arms as if for a hug, and something within Her snapped. 

She snarled, and the woman faltered, stumbling backwards, a look of doubt suddenly crossing her face. “Baby?” She billowed up, billowed out, and opened Her mouth larger than she could before, smaller than she could before, and  _ consumed _ the woman before her, teeth crunching down on bones. She vibrated in happiness, in horror, at the woman’s bloodcurdling screams, and sighed in disappointed relief when they finally cut off.

She swallowed, and found Herself staring out at an empty room. Blood spattered the walls, the floor, the ceiling, and a single window was open, revealing the darkness of the country night sky. There were so many things She could do, should do. Go home and find her parents. Retreatreat to the mindscape and find someone to help her. Sit here and think, gather Her wits and what was left of Her sanity to make a decision. But Her stomach rumbled. She was hungry.

And so She turned to the window and made Her way through it, floating out into the night. There was a city not far away, and daybreak was soon. If She timed it just right, She’d reach the city just in time for the morning rush.

And then She’d have Her fe͠a͘͡śţ̵̡.

* * *

Missy arrived at her shop with a coffee in hand and turned the sign from ‘CLOSED’ to ‘OPEN’ as she entered. The bell above the door chimed and she took a deep, happy breath, savouring the smell of strawberries and fashion. Her brother sometimes tried to tell her that fashion wasn’t a smell, but what did he know? It was a smell, and it was the smell that permeated her shop.

It had been a lot of hard work to get to where she was, with a tiny boutique not far from the centre of the city, and what made it better was that she’d done it all by herself. In her position, it would have been so easy to cheat, to just make a deal to achieve all her dreams, but she’d restrained, and she’d done it alone- well, almost alone. She’d done it without the help of magic, that’d be more fitting.

After all, there was no shame in getting her brother’s help when she needed it.

As if summoned by her thoughts, he materialised next to her as she set up the till for the day. “Morning, bro!” she greeted, not moving her gaze.

“Morning,” he returned. “How’s my favourite sister?” 

“I’m your only sister.” She laughed, glancing over at him. He grinned.

“You don’t know that.”   
“Oh, shut it. You already told me that-” She cut off, her eyes widening as she heard the unmistakable sounds of screaming from outside. “Do you hear that?”

He met her gaze, and as one, the two of them turned and ran out into the street. People were racing past in one direction, and so they went in the opposite, heading toward whatever was going on.

“Oi, Miss,” one older man yelled as they passed, “You’re going the wrong way!”

“I know where I’m going,” Missy called back, carrying on running. Alcor zoomed ahead of her, floating through the crowd to get to the centre square. As they reached it, they found it almost deserted, and for good reason. Floating above the square was a smoky figure, draped in a smoky cloak, with three eyes and a large, gaping maw with large fangs. In the centre of the smoke was a darker figure, and as Missy peered at it, she made out the shape of a person, suspended in midair, the smoke fusing into their body.

“Shit,” Alcor whispered beside her.

“What’s going on?” she asked him, watching as the smoky figure laughed, holding a screaming civilian above its gaping maw and dropping them in. She winced at the crunch, and the way the scream suddenly cut off. 

“That’s Aerthia the fortune-teller,” Alcor said. “I’ve met her once or twice. This isn’t like her at all. Something’s gone wrong.”   
“What should we do?” Missy asked.    
“I’m going to try and calm her down,” Alcor told her. “Or at least distract her so that she can’t eat anyone else. You are going to go back to the shop and hide out down in the basement, and not come up until I give the all-clear.”   
“What?” Missy cried. “But I can help-”   
“It’s too dangerous!” Alcor insisted, rounding on her. “Please, Missy. I don’t want you getting hurt.” She stared at him, saw the worry in his eyes, and sighed. 

“Fine,” she relented. “I’ll go. But you gotta promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I promise,” Alcor said, giving her a comforting smile. “Go on, go.”   
She nodded, and turned and ran away, back down the street. She waited until Alcor was fully distracted with Aerthia, and then whirled around and raced back toward the near-empty square. From her bag she pulled out a pink scarf and wrapped it around her head, obscuring everything but her eyes, so that she wouldn’t be instantly recognisable should anyone see her. Pulling her ring from her finger, she gripped the bat, and skirted around the edge of the square, taking in the situation as she did so.

Aerthia seemed to be totally out of control, her eyes whizzing around, not focusing on anything, and her movements clumsy. Alcor was doing a good job of avoiding her blows, but couldn’t seemed to land any of his own. His skin had hardened to tough, jet-black brick, gold leaking through the cracks, and he was constantly changing size, larger for attack and smaller for dodging. But Aerthia’s body was ethereal, seemingly made of purple-black smoke. In fact, the only thing that looked solid was the smaller figure in the middle.

She froze, turning and looking properly at the figure. They were small, smaller than her, and seemed to be unconscious, their head lolling and their limbs unmoving. From their back, solid wings seemed to protrude, evaporating into smoke by the ends. 

If anything, they looked like a more likely spot for a weak point. 

She spun around, looking for a way she could get to it. She supposed she could make her way up one of the buildings and jump out of the nearest window, but the idea wasn’t all that appealing. So instead she yelled,

“Hey, Alcor!”   
The demon ducked a blow and whirled around at her, seething with anger. “Missy, what are you do̡ing?͢” Missy winced.

“The thing in the middle! I think they’re solid!” she yelled up at him anyway, and he nodded, turning to the out-of-control demon and reaching out, grabbing it, pulling it away. The smoke demon screamed and evaporated, and alcor was left holding a figure. He shrunk down until he was her size again, and Missy raced forward, kneeling by the figure he’d dropped to the ground.

It was a girl, she saw now, a young girl who couldn’t have have been older than sixteen. Her hair was short and brown, her skin pale, her clothes plain and torn. Her skin was coated with what seemed to be burns and blisters, and a third eyelid quivered in her forehead. From her back emanated purple-black smoke, rising up and vanishing into the air.

“This is Aerthia?” she asked, glancing up at Alcor and finding herself taken aback by the  _ horror _ on his face. 

“N͘o,” he breathed. She couldn’t tell whether he was answering her question, or simply voicing his disbelief. Across the square, sirens sounded as law enforcement arrived. The two of them looked over to see several officers racing toward them. Alcor reached out and grabbed her shoulder, and the three of them were whisked away in a puff of black smoke.

* * *

“What is she?” Missy asked, sitting on the edge of her bed beside the sleeping girl, alcor pacing the floor before her.

“Human,” Alcor ground out. “Or, she was. Someone did something to her, and now she’s gained Aerthia’s powers.” Missing turned her gaze toward the girl, who was twitching in her sleep. 

“Is there anything we can do for her?” she asked. 

“Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe she’s too unstable and will eventually collapse in on herself, destroying everything around her. Maybe she’ll stabilize and will live out all of eternity as a demon. Maybe neither of those things will happen. I don’t know.”

She could hear the fury in his voice, and frowned. “Are you mad about what happened to Aerthia?” she asked. Alcor froze.

“What? No. I barely knew her, and she wasn’t exactly pleasant.”

“Oh.” He frowned at her.

“Why would you think that?” She shrugged.

“Just the way you’re angry… it feels personal.” He sighed.

“I guess, in a way, it is,” he said. She opened her mouth, and he glared at her. “Don’t ask, ‘cause I don’t wanna tell.” She shut her mouth immediately.

“That’s fair,” she murmured. “Just, I wa-” she cut herself off as the girl mumbled, shifting. 

The two of them turned to stare at her as she shifted in her sleep, and opened her lower two eyes. They glowed bright purple for a moment, and then faded to grey, and the girl let out a frightened hiccup as she bolted upright. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Missy called softly, soothingly. “You’re safe now. My name’s Missy, and-”   
“Ǵ̢̢e̡͘͡t̴͜ ̷̴̡̧͝a̕͏͘҉w̢͝a҉͏̕͝y̢̧͘ ̵̨͠f̵̨͘͡͠ŗ̛̕͏o̕͟͢͞m̴̡̛̛̛ ̢̛͘m̨͜e͞͏̷!̶́̕͞͝” the girl roared, and a sudden gust of wind blew them back. Missy picked herself up from the floor, staring at the girl as she hugged her knees to her chest, breathing heavily. 

“Hey,” she called softly, and the girl looked up, panicked. Missy held her hands up in a motion surrender. “I’m not gonna come near you,” she soothed. “I just want to talk to you. Is that okay?” Jerkily, the girl nodded. “I’m Missy. What’s your name?”   
The girl gave a short, hysterical giggle. “I don’t know,” she replied. “I don’t know! Who am I, what am I? I don’t know!”

Missy exchanged a look with Alcor. “Do you know what happened to you?” she asked the girl. She sneered.

“Some nutjob living out in the middle of nowhere,” she griped. “Kidnapped me, summoned, me, m͠a͢͡d͢͢e̢̛͢ me…”

Another exchanged glance. Missy bit her lip worriedly. “I want to help you,” she said. “ _ We _ want to help you. What can we do to help you?” The girl shrugged.

“I don’t know. What can you do? You can’t fix this, nobody can…” She gazed down at her hands. “I’m not Aerthia. I’m not Mary-Ann. What can I do? I can’t go home, I can’t…”   
“Will you stay with us?” Missy asked. Alcor glared at her. The girl glanced up, confusion on her face.

“Why? Why would you care?”

“I’m just trying to make the world a better place,” Missy replied simply. “I want to help you.”

The girl glanced between her and her brother. “And Alcor…?”

“You know me,” Alcor replied with a shrug. 

“Not really,” the girl commented. “But I guess you always did have a soft spot for human children, huh?”

“Yeah,” Alcor agreed, his voice softer than Missy had ever heard it. “I guess I did.”

* * *

 

She spent the rest of that day lying in Missy’s bed, staring at the ceiling and contemplating, well, everything. She thought about Mary-Ann and her parents and her friends, and then she thought about Aerthia and her powers and her allies and her duties. She thought about the power that now ran through Her blood, the way Her soul was impure, cobbled together by a human playing with power she never should have had.

She didn’t cry; She didn’t know if She could. But She shook with misery and hopelessness. Her head brimmed with a thousand secrets, a million futures laid out in front of Her that She was too blind to see. Everything hurt: Her body, Her mind, Her very soul. What She was was not meant to exist, something that went against the very nature of nature itself. 

_ Unnatural. _

The only thing She got out of that time, incapacitated by the uncertainty that haunted Her, was a name. Mirthian came to Her at some point, and She decided she liked it well enough, even if it made Her sound like the demon of happiness and not prophecy. But whatever.

After that first day, She made an effort to  _ not _ be useless. She helped Missy in her shop, learning to sew (she felt like She already knew how, but there was a difference between Knowing and Doing that made itself readily present), though She had to stay out of the way of customers. The third eye and the smoke rising from Her body may have been a little suspicious.

She also found herself spending time with Alcor, more than she’d expected. Back when She’d been Aerthia, She hadn’t really had much reason to spend time with him or to like him, and as Mary-Ann, She’d found herself frightened by the thought of him. But now She found that She actually quite liked him- he was a dork, as Missy said, and never showed animosity toward Her, despite the fact that he probably had reason to. 

After all, he was always so  _ angry.  _ She noticed it, sometimes, when he thought She wasn’t looking, the way he glared and clenched his fists and glanced at her with fury in his gaze.

The other thing that took up Her time was answering summons, which felt both natural and terrifying. The thing about being a hybrid of two other minds was that everything was both unfamiliar and familiar, and She both knew and didn’t know what to do. The first time She came back from a summons drenched in blood and sobbing, She’d hated herself for it, because She’d done this before and there was no reason to be so  _ dramatic  _ about it. But at the same time, She’d been horrified and felt sick to Her stomach at what She’d done. Either way, Alcor and Missy had helped Her clear up, and held Her until Her sobs subsided and She’d had enough mind to request to be alone.

That was another thing She liked about them; they always listened to Her, and never forced Her outside of her comfort zone. Maybe it was something to do with how She was a demon, but even if it was, She wouldn’t mind.

 

Months flew by, and then years. Mirthian worked with Missy as she grew famous, grew old, until the day where she passed by into another life. In that time, the woman became Her best friend, Her confidant, the one person She trusted more than anything. She harboured many memories of sleepovers and movie nights and days spent together, all of them bright and shiny with the colours of joy and comfort. She visited them whenever she was sad, such as when she stood at Missy’s gravestone and looked down at the last remnant of her first friend.

Even after Missy passed, Alcor stuck around. The two of them spent a surprising amount of time together, both in the mindscape and the human world. She even found herself invited to some events with his human friends, his human family.

At one such event, She found himself asking the question that had been haunting Her from the day She awoke in Missy’s room. “Why’d you do it?” She asked. He glanced at Her in confusion.   
“Do what?”

“Help me.”

He paused, and then sighed. “Because I’ve been there.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in. Mirthia gasped, Her eyes widening. “You… You used to be hu-”

“Shh,” he cut Her off, lifting his finger to his mouth and giving a wry smile. She let the statement die on Her lips. “It wasn’t quite your situation, but I knew, at least somewhat, how you felt. And no one deserves to go through that alone.”

“Did you?” She asked. “Do it alone, I mean?”   
He shook his head, gazing out over the party. “No,” he said. “I had Mizar.” She followed his gaze to the young woman dancing with an older man. 

“Your sister,” She said. 

“My favourite one,” he agreed. She glanced at him.

“You have another one?”

“You could say that,” he said, and turned to give Her a smile. On the dancefloor, the young Mizar called out to him, waving. He slipped of the stool beside Her, leaving his cup on the side. “It was nice seeing you again, Mirthian.” 

She watched him go as he slipped into the crowd to dance with his sister. She sighed, downing the last of Her drink, and vanished, leaving Her empty cup on the table beside his.

**Author's Note:**

> I know the prompt said it shouldn't end well, but... 
> 
> ZALGO TRANSLATIONS:   
> "Who dares invoke the name of Aerthia the fortune-teller?"  
> "I didn't come here to hear my own name, child. What do you want?"  
> "Me?" "What do you mean by that?"  
> "That's it? You want to... hang out?"  
> "Then it's a deal."  
> "I don't mind if I do,"  
> "How could you? What did you do to me?"  
> Agony  
> tricked  
> Wrongness  
> feast.  
> "Get away from me!"  
> made
> 
>  
> 
> Maybe in the future I'll write more about Mirthian and her life, idk.


End file.
